4:7

When Meredith got back to the truck the rain had slackened off a bit but she was still pretty wet when she slid into the driver’s seat.

“Well? Did you enjoy your…” She stopped suddenly as she stared at an empty passenger seat. There was no sign of the beaver.

Meredith wondered what to do next. It was still raining hard enough that visibility was pretty low, but the thought of wandering around town calling out for the beaver didn’t appeal to her. People thought she was a crazy old spinster already; no need to make it worse with seemingly psycho behavior. And that went double for popping into the cafe or tavern and asking anyone there if they had spotted a domestic beaver poking its nose into things.

Meredith took a deep breathe and leaned back into the bench seat, resting her head against the sliding rear window. I knew this was a bad idea, but would I ever take my own advice? Nope, stubborn as all hell, even if the only person arguing with me is myself. She glanced at her wet and disheveled hair in the rear view mirror. Huh, I guess actually am that crazy old lady.
Then, with a sigh and a smile, she opened the truck door again. Might as well seal the deal and see if anyone saw the little bugger wandering around. I sure can’t leave him here in town. Probably get run over or wander into Clyde’s place and get made into sausage. Meredith stepped out into the rain, pulled her hood back on and headed for the cafe. Maybe someone there had seen him.